


Growls and Yells

by VigoGrimborne



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24608785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VigoGrimborne/pseuds/VigoGrimborne
Summary: Devastating Winter had arrived, and Hiccup was, of course, still in a coma. Gothi said he would wake eventually, which was a relief... but Stoick would much rather his son wake up now because the Night Fury was getting on his nerves. Badly.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 43





	Growls and Yells

**Author's Note:**

> What was intended as a late Christmas gift to my readers, a one-shot that has been rolling around in my head for months, was put on hold for a while, and is only now complete. It's not exactly that time of year anymore, but it wasn't really a festive story to begin with, and it's the thought that counts. Set in the months Hiccup logically must have spent unconscious after the Red Death, to miss Winter, this story is canon-compliant in regards to the past (but not retroactively, things such as Toothless's age as determined by Valka don't count), but probably not the future. This definitely didn't happen in canon, and every action has ripple effects on the future.

The weather outside was frightful. Stoick grinned, trudging through the snow. This was Berk, all right. Weather like this was normal. Winter had come and gone, and Devastating Winter was here. One did not go outside unless there was a very good reason.

Even as chief, one needed a reason. He spent an hour or so in the Great Hall every day so that villagers could find him if they needed something, but other than that he stayed home. There was plenty of wood stocked, plenty of bread and cheese...

And not enough fish, it seemed. Never enough fish. That was why he wasn't heading directly home. Oh, he had stocked more than enough fish for the Winter, knowing how much he and his son would eat.

That had not taken into account that this Winter, he was having to provide for a free-loading reptile with an attitude. The only concession he had gotten from it was that it dropped its waste outside. Fending for itself? Not a chance.

He picked up a whole barrel of salted fish and hoisted it over his shoulder, shaking his head at the full storehouse. Astrid had managed to get the dragons to fish for them right before the freeze hit, so they wouldn't starve, but he had assumed the dragons could handle a little cold. Vikings could!

Then again, most of them didn't seem to mind. Reptiles slept through the Winter, from what he had heard, but apparently, that did not necessarily apply to reptiles with internal heating. Terrors floundered in the knee-high snow, Nadders preened at their reflection in the ice, and Nightmares huddled on rooftops, growling at each other. Gronckles were content to laze away inside, he had been told, not moving at all, so it was not all dragons, but most were either comatose or going about their lives.

Of course, he had to be stuck with the moody one. Maybe he needed less reason than normal to leave the hut this Winter. Hiccup was still comatose, and between Astrid, Gothi, and random well-wishers, there really wasn't much for Stoick to do except wait and make sure nothing happened. 

Gothi was going to come by later today to check up on Hiccup, though she had ignored Stoick when he offered to clear a path for her. He had no idea how she planned on getting here, given the snow would be up to her waist, but she had a plan. One did not mess with the village elder, especially when the village elder had a short temper, a strong arm, and a wooden staff.

He plowed through the snow with all the subtlety of an avalanche, shoving it out of the way. Maneuvering the barrel through the front door was a trick he had perfected over the years, and he never slowed in opening the door, balancing the barrel on one arm, and walking into the-

"Oy!" Stoick stuttered in his walk, the barrel wavering. A black tail lay right in his path. "Next time I'll just squash it," he muttered as a pair of green eyes blinked at him, unconcerned.

Of course, when those eyes alit on the barrel, they became very much interested. Stoick shuddered at the feral glee that crossed the reptile's broad and flat face. How had he never noticed that dragons had such nuanced expressions before? He had killed enough of them over the years.

Maybe that was it. Rage or pain would be all he ever saw that way. Not that it mattered. He set the barrel in the outer room that served as a cold room for certain foods and closed the door. The dragon was not getting at this new supply. He meant to ration it. This particular dragon had not participated in supplying the fish, so it had no real right to it in his eyes. It would get what he gave out, no more.

He glared at the beast as it padded towards the door he had just shut. "You are not getting in there." There wasn't a latch, but it wasn't like the dragon could-

That tail flicked up to the rough doorknob, winding around it and pulling, twisting as it did.

Stoick had never wondered how the reptile got out when he wasn't around, but now he knew. It could open doors.

Given it was now nosing around the barrel eagerly, he wasn't too happy with this information. He stormed over and shoved the black bulk back out, pulling it through the doorway by that same tail with one hand while the other pulled at its chest.

The dragon, of course, was not happy with that, growling unpleasantly and arching its back. It glared at him, claws out.

"Fight me and lose the other fin," Stoick threatened angrily. "You don't go in there." He was not letting this beast at their food.

As it rolled its eyes and stalked away, he wondered for the hundredth time why Hiccup had to tame the most aggravating dragon in existence.

Oh, when the dust had settled, he had been happy to realize that for once Hiccup compared favorably to Snotlout, who had a Monstrous Nightmare with obedience issues. That had been back when the Night Fury was still pining over Hiccup, refusing to leave his side as he lay there, burning with fever. When the fever had broken, and Gothi assured them both, through Gobber, that Hiccup would recover, the dragon had relaxed.

That was when the problems started. Stoick wasn't sure if Hiccup was able to get this dragon to listen, but for him, it was like talking to a stone wall. No indication that it understood. They got along poorly, to say the least.

He was pretty sure it would have killed him if it weren't for Hiccup. The feeling was mutual. That scrawny Viking in the bed moved down from the loft was the only one keeping the peace, and he wasn't even awake to do it.

Oh, Stoick couldn't argue that he was glad his son had forced them to make peace and saved them all, and this dragon was a part of that. But he definitely wouldn't mind Hiccup sending this Night Fury on its way when he woke up either. It wasn't so scary now that people could actually get a good look at it. A Monstrous Nightmare, while less prestigious, would be more intimidating, and as long as Hiccup got a bigger one than Snotlout, all would still be well.

He meant to speak to Astrid about that when she came back. Maybe put a hold on some of the larger wild Nightmares. However that worked.

Astrid. She was a pleasant note in this new version of Berk. Hiccup, she insisted, was the one with the natural skill at all things dragon-related (except killing), but she knew Vikings. He had happily handed off the dragon side of keeping the village afloat to her once she demonstrated that she could handle it.

Yes, he'd ask her to pick out a good one. Hiccup would understand...

But even as he thought that something at the back of his mind laughed at the very idea. Hiccup was never going to put this particular dragon aside, a rebellious part of him argued. He is as attached to it as it is to him.

Not by choice. But by duty, maybe. Hiccup did still care about that, and if Stoick put his foot down, it would happen.

He silenced the dissenting voice in his head. It would happen. He was chief. But it couldn't be done without Hiccup's consent. So he had to put up with the black reptile until then.

Said reptile was now in the rafters, still eyeing the door to the cold room, which Stoick held shut. He cast around for something to bar the door with now that he knew it alone would not hold the beast out.

A thud, several in fact, echoed through the hut. Someone was at the door. Two green eyes changed focus, staring at the source of the new sound.

Stoick left the issue of barring the other door for later and went to let Gothi in. He opened the door to see Gothi... at eye level, strangely. She was normally a good two feet shorter than him.

Then he looked down. "Gobber?" There his friend stood, Gothi on his back, hunched over. There was an odd metal plate in the place of Gobber's prosthesis.

"Aye, I'm here too!" Gobber shuffled forward, and Stoick moved aside to let the odd pair through, shutting the door behind them.

Gothi clambered off of Gobber and nodded to him. He straightened, detaching the metal plate from his prosthetic and reslotting his normal hook in, tightening it absently. "So, where's the fearsome beast?"

"Above you," Stoick said with a small smile. Gobber never did look up when inside. Gothi had gone straight to Hiccup and was doing... whatever it was she did. All of her knowledge was stuck with her, and whatever apprentice was patient enough to get it out of her, scribbled lines of nonsense runes being her only method of communication. She might be able to talk, but none of them had ever heard her voice.

That was another reason Gobber was here. He was one of the few that could read her runes with any semblance of efficiency. 

Gobber looked up just as the black beast switched rafters, a silent shadow relocating to be directly over Gothi and Hiccup. "Eh? No 'e isn't. Don't play jokes on me, Stoick."

Stoick sighed in exasperation. "Not my joke, Gobber." His friend didn't seem to mind the beast, not having to live with it.

The Night Fury dropped to the floor just as silently, nosing over Hiccup as Gothi poked at his chest. The two seemed to be having some minor disagreement, though Stoick noted with displeasure that the reptilian side of the argument was subdued, as opposed to open and offensive. The beast only showed its true nature around him, it seemed.

"Get over 'ere," Stoick growled, grabbing the tail and yanking. This time the dragon hadn't been expecting that and yelped, scrabbling its claws on the floor as it jolted away from the bed.

Then it turned on Stoick and snarled, wrenching its tail out of his grip. Those teeth made a mockery of the silly name Hiccup had given this monster.

Stoick glared right back at it. Yes, this dragon was going to have to go. It defied him, the chief.

"Eh, Stoick?" Gobber was looking up from some hastily-scribbled runes in the sand tray Gothi had brought with her. "Gothi wants ye to stop interferin'."

"Interfering?" Stoick asked incredulously. "It was the one interfering!" He might be the chief, but Gothi held authority. She was the village Elder. Not to mention rumored to be in connection with one or more of the gods, or some other such thing. He wasn't sure about that part. Not speaking and acting mysterious for twenty years went a long way to improving one's reputation.

"She says... they were having a civil debate?" Gobber scratched his head with his one remaining hand. "Really? It can debate?"

Gothi shrugged. She scratched some more into the sand. Even the dragon was watching now.

"She says that of all people, she can argue without words. So can he." Gobber nodded knowingly. "Okay then. I don' understand what that means, but it's good enough for me."

"It gets in the way," Stoick griped. "I don't want it messing with Hiccup's treatment." He made another grab for the tail, which was slinking away as the dragon returned to Hiccup's side.

A whirl and a muzzle of threatening teeth was abruptly in his face. A deep and truly threatening growl filled the room.

Then a yelp of pain. The beast backed off, shaking its head in confusion. Gothi brandished her staff threateningly, somehow making a Night Fury back down despite being the smallest Viking on Berk in height.

Stoick smiled. That would teach-

The staff whirled to smack him over the helmet, knocking it off. "Hey!"

Gobber backed away, fumbled for the front door, and slipped out. "I'll leave ye three to it. I've seen her this mad before. No desire for a repeat performance."

Gothi nodded serenely, her staff still pointed at Stoick's face. Gobber shut the door quietly, now on the other side.

"I was-" Stoick began, before being cut off by the staff retreating, and whacking him again. "Oy! I'm yer chief."

Gothi looked from him to the chastened Night Fury and shrugged. She was clearly saying that neither of them scared her. Her eyes, on the other hand, glittered in frustration.

Wordlessly, she gestured to the dragon, who nodded. It stuck its head towards Stoick, eyes closed.

Stoick felt a very palpable twinge of utter frustration. Where was that kind of obedience when he was the one asking for it? She hadn’t even said anything!

Then Gothi tapped his head and placed the tip of her staff in the air right in front of the beast's muzzle.

Great. Stoick didn't bother arguing, knowing Gothi was stubborn. He got on his knees and put his head where she indicated, glaring at the dragon. Now they were all on relatively the same level. Why she wanted that was a total mystery, but Gothi wasn’t in the habit of explaining herself. It was best to humor her.

A hand on the back of his head, and on the back of the dragon's deceptively expressive ears. What was-

" _ Listen _ ." The hand pushed with a sudden burst of strength Stoick had never thought Gothi capable off, and his head slammed against the dragon's, which had also been shoved forward.

Vikings had thick skulls, but so did dragons. Both man and beast faltered, stunned.

Stoick had slammed his head against a rock once, and it had split in two. He hadn't fainted then. Why was the world blurring?

His last thought before unconsciousness was another question. Had Gothi just spoken to both of them?

**  
  
**

Stoick sat up woozily. When had he decided to sleep on the floor? Sure, given Viking beds were just wooden platforms it wasn't that much less uncomfortable, but the beast was around. He could never have fallen asleep in such a vulnerable position.

Then again, it turns out the door he had assumed a good barrier was useless even as a distraction. The dragon was entirely capable of opening it and slipping inside his room without a sound. He would need to figure something else out for that too.

Oh, great. Had it gotten at the fish? He hadn't gotten a chance to bar the door to that room before...

Before Gothi, in a fit of frustration, slammed their heads together hard enough to knock him out.

"The nerve," he muttered, standing with a hand to his head. This was going to be a two-block headache, for sure. He stepped towards the front door, intending to get the requisite blocks of ice.

And tripped over a black tail, falling to his hands and knees. "Stupid reptile." His head hurt too much to do anything but gripe.

"Idiotic mammal," an extremely deep voice griped right back at him. "Watch your step."

Make that a three-block headache, if he was hearing voices. Stoick shook his head to clear it. What had Hiccup once said about head injuries causing problems? It had been an excuse, or so Stoick thought, but this wasn't normal. There was a name for the injury. A cussing. No, that was something else entirely. A contusion? Closer, but not quite. Stoick didn't know what that one meant at all.

Whatever. He had one if he was hearing voices. The tail slithered out from under him, the single asymmetrical fin brushing his legs on the way out. A disgruntled rumbling emanated from the dragon as it crept away to curl up around the foot of Hiccup's bed.

"Head feels like a Gronckle sat on it," that same voice complained. “A large, fat Gronckle who steals rocks from the other Gronckles.”

Stoick found himself nodding despite the pain. At least his hallucinations were good with metaphors. Better than he was, really. Four blocks of ice. He stumbled to the door and stepped outside.

The freezing cold wind threatened to knock him right back out, but at least it made him feel more alert. Gothi had quite the arm, it seemed. Good to know.

After casting around fruitlessly for ice, Stoick gave up and began the trudge to the Great Hall. If ice wasn't easily found, mead would do the job. The hangover would at least be treatable... with more mead. It was a slower process, but at least it was one he knew.

The snow was falling again, and the village looked like it had been abandoned by man and dragon alike, quiet and deserted. Quiet was good. His head still felt like it was splitting open.

The Great Hall was almost empty, but Stoick saw Gobber sitting in a corner, mug prosthetic on and full. He went over to join his friend, grabbing a half-full mug of his own from a table, where it had been abandoned who knew how long ago. That just made the mead taste better, in his opinion. No waste.

"Oy, yer up early," Gobber noted. "I'm only 'ere because I slept here."

He had lost a whole night? Stoick groaned. "Gothi knocked me out right after you left. It's the next day?" With the constant cloud cover casting gloom over the world, it was hard to know, which was why he hadn't noticed.

"Eh, that's all she did?" Gobber looked inexplicably relieved. "Ye haven't been seein' things, 'ave ya?"

There seemed to be a story behind that. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Gobber leaned back, "Mildew got Gothi that mad once. 'E was bein' is usual self righ' 'round Snoggletokg."

"And?" This sounded good. Anything bad that happened to Mildew was worth a laugh. The old man made everyone around him miserable, to the point where he had been driven out of the village. He was still a member of the village, but his own relatives refused to let him stay with them, and he liked living in a lonely shack on the other side of the island better anyway.

"Well, she knocked him out with 'er staff," and here Gobber stopped abruptly. He lowered his voice. "And she spoke."

Stoick recalled his own faltering recollection. "What did she say?" He was beginning to feel nervous.

"Remember, Consider, Predict, Regret." Gobber shivered. "I don' wanna hear her say anythin' ever again. Gave me the willies."

Much longer than what she had said to him. He recalled only one word. Listen.

"The next day, Mildew came into town rantin' about three Draugrs with the faces of his past wives," Gobber whispered. "Said they yelled at him and took him places all night. He looked like he hadn't slept a wink. I don' know what Gothi did, but he was pleasant to anyone who looked at him funny for a week after that. Then he went back to normal."

"Was he already drunk?" That sounded like something a drunk Mildew would come up with.

"Totally sober," Gobber grimaced. "Wouldn't calm down until the village got 'im drunk."

Stoick vaguely remembered running into a drunk and pleasant Mildew a few years ago at about that time of year. He had considered it a Snoggletog miracle and thought no more of it. Now...

He lifted the mug to his lips, only to find it empty. He must have already finished it while Gobber spoke.

Gobber watched closely. "So, anythin' odd?"

"She said listen," Stoick admitted. "Slammed my head against the beast's, and we both fainted."

Gobber's mouth fell open, his false tooth dropping out to hit the table. "She knocked you out?! Ye? Stoick the Vast?"

"I know, it's insane," Stoick replied in frustration. "But I woke up this morning with a headache..."

"I'll bet," Gobber muttered.

"... and that's it." He didn't feel like talking about the voice.

"Listen," Gobber mused, popping his tooth back in. "Well, maybe she was talkin' to Toothless."

Stoick snorted. "That name is a joke."

"Eh, it was given by a kid named Hiccup," Gobber pointed out. "Can't really give yer best friend a name less embarrassing than your own, can you?"

"Best friend," Stoick repeated incredulously. "I'd assume Astrid takes that title." She was the only teen who actually knew what he had been doing before the rest of the village found out. 

"Not according to Astrid," Gobber retorted confidently. "Ask 'er yourself. She's got me making another tail rig for 'im so Hiccup can get him into the air when he wakes up."

That reminded Stoick that the dragon couldn't fly without Hiccup. That could be an issue if he wanted Hiccup to get a different pet. Hiccup would never let go if the dragon legitimately needed him. "Hiccup has to operate it?"

"Aye, or no deal," Gobber agreed. "A complex bit o' machinery."

"Can you make one the dragon can use on its own?" That would be an important step towards getting the insolent beast out of his home and life.

"Er..." Gobber winced at the very idea. "Stoick, no. I cannae even figure out 'ow it  _ works _ ! I'm jus' working off his plans. I'd never be able to make it meself. He's outdone me. If it can be done, Hiccup has to do it."

"You taught him everything he knows." Stoick was sure Gobber could do it if he tried hard enough. "I have faith in you."

"I taught him everything  _ I _ know," Gobber retorted. "Not everything he knows, clearly. I wasnae kidding. I can't do it."

Stoick felt his headache melting away, even though he hadn't had a full mug of mead yet. It must be going away on its own. That put him in a good mood. He stood, clapping a hand to Gobber's shoulder. "Try anyway."

"Aye, chief," Gobber griped. "I'll get right on tryin' to improve one o' Hiccup's inventions. That cannae go wrong."

Stoick barely heard him, heading back home. The mention of plans had got him thinking. Maybe there was something in Hiccup's room that could give Gobber help, or maybe even give Stoick insight into how Hiccup got the beast to do his bidding. The two had worked as a single being at the nest, and as Hiccup was operating the tail, that had to be him in control. How was it done?

More trudging through snow, leaning against the powerful Berk wind that threatened to knock over even the studiest Vikings. It was a habit, and he barely noticed the trip back, only returning his full attention to his path once he was in his house.

In the range of that blasted reptile... who was walking out of the cold room, looking satisfied. Stoick's good mood evaporated faster than water froze outside. Gone in an instant.

"I was hungry," the voice asserted. "Any sane mammal would leave me be."

Stoick ignored the inane ranting of the deep voice, his frustration at the reptile's intrusions bubbling over. "Get out of there!"

The reptile froze. "Odd. My headache must not be as gone as I thought."

Now Stoick felt confused. The voice... the dragon...

Listen. Said to both of them.

Gothi had a record of doing things to the ones who angered her...

"Dragon, get out of there. Now." He said it as sternly as he could.

"No." The beast sat down right there in the doorway. "I don't care how clearly you can speak today."

"Get." He would not be alarmed, he would not freak out. A chief took things as they came and rolled with the punches, no matter how strange.

"I said no."

"I don't care what you said!" Stoick yelled, totally at a loss.

The dragon blinked and slowly stood. "It hears, too. Interesting." Then it stalked forward. "I don't like you." A deep voice to match the deep growl.

"Good to know. I despise you," Stoick retorted. This he knew. Arguing with people he hated was a yearly tradition carried out at the inter-tribal meeting. Blunt was best.

"My food," the beast asserted. "I eat what I need. You would starve me."

"My village, my food," was Stoick's response. "You eat what you get."

"I do not get enough." A snarl. "I do not eat your kind. Do not tempt me by starving me."

"Yakshit." Stoick had seen plenty of unlucky Vikings carried off. "I've lost friends to your kind's appetites."

"My kind?" At that, the Night Fury wilted, his ears drooping. "I am my kind. No one else is. I do not eat your kind, so my kind does not eat yours." He walked away, curling up at the foot of Hiccup's bed. "Go away. I eat what I need, and you do not get to determine that need."

"I am in charge," Stoick growled, following the dragon. "Live in my hut, in my village, and you answer to me." It was insane to say that to a Night Fury, but this one was tame, to a degree, and Stoick feared nothing, least of all that he could argue with.

"I answer to one creature, and that only because he is mine as much as I am his." The dragon nodded up at the bed. "You are not him."

"Hiccup is my son." Stoick really didn't like how the dragon had put that. " _ He _ answers to me."

"Not for long." The large green eyes met Stoick's gaze and held it effortlessly, where most Vikings would drop it in seconds. "We are only here because he cannot travel."

"Hiccup is not leaving Berk." That was the truth, as undeniable as the snow outside. "This is his tribe, his home. He would never want to leave, let alone follow through on it."

The dragon snorted, still not breaking eye contact. "Shows what you know." Silence followed.

He would not blink, he would not break the gaze. This was a contest of dominance, and Stoick was not about to lose in his own home, especially to a lizard who flat-out admitted to wanting to steal his son away!

Strain. His eyes felt raw and sore, dry. The lizard still hadn't so much as blinked.

"You are a threat to him. I will not tolerate it."

Those words made him blink, uttered so calmly by the beast in front of him. He felt a surge of outrage. "I am not a threat to my own son!"

"Bruises, on his side, back, arms." The Night Fury gurgled in what Stoick took a moment to realize was a mocking laugh coming from an animal. "Your scent on them. Fear, when he looked at you. A few words between you cannot unmake those."

That struck right at his heart. Fear. The feeling he wanted to inspire in his enemies, in...

In traitors. His son had been a traitor, and he had shoved him to the floor when his son had wanted nothing but to warn him. That would be the cause of the bruises. But fear? Still, in what had to be their final conversation? Even after he had apologized? "After I took it back?"

He had not realized that last question had been audible until the beast snorted.

"So?" It flicked its tail out, leaving it between them. "All the regret in the world cannot undo what we do on a whim. Some things cannot be repaired."

Stoick dropped his eyes, unwilling to look at the beast who had made him doubt himself. "I will fix it."

"You will not get the chance." The dragon closed its eyes, clearly done talking.

Talking. Was it possible this was a hallucination? That the dragon was just acting in a way that happened to fit the voice in his head? That would be preferable, as it would mean the voice was not speaking from knowledge, just baseless fears.

Stoick stumbled up the narrow stairs to the loft, stubbornly trying to put the disturbing and hostile argument he had just lost out of his mind. What was he up here for?

To look through Hiccup's things. To find something that might help Gobber, or himself.

There were piles of parchments, but those were old. Stoick picked up the newest notebook instead, noting that it was a bit tattered. Hiccup usually cared for his things.

The first few pages were innocent, drawings and notes on things that made no sense to Stoick. Then a sketch that did. A dragon, one seen from above, missing a fin. This was the right book.

He flipped a few pages further, stopping on a hastily-scrawled note. ‘no eels.’

No help there, as he didn't really know why. Maybe they offended the Night Fury's sensitive appetite. He scoffed at the thought. Lower down, there were notes. A tally, of sorts. Fish, the label said. Numbers, a large one and then a small one, with a date associated with each pair.

This was... Stoick puzzled it out. It was a record of fish taken in secret, and of... fish eaten. That had to be it, as the second number remained nearly constant, while the first rose in the beginning and then tapered down to match the second.

That number, he noted sourly, was more than twice what he had given the beast on a daily basis. It had not lied about being starved.

More pages flipped through more rapidly. What did he hope to find? But then one with no drawings, and careful writing. The title stopped him. _ 'Logic.' _

What was this?

_ 'Animals fear captivity. Animals also fear being cornered. They strike when cornered. Toothless was captive, cornered, and capable of striking. He did not.' _

A space, a blank place before the next carefully written statement.

_ 'Animals do not think beyond the moment unless it is instinct, which does not cover extraordinary situations. Toothless shows planning capabilities.' _

Another space.

_ 'Animals are incapable of reasoning and extrapolation. Toothless has been picking up my meaning far too fast for it to be learned responses based on repetition. He knew his own name in a day.’ _

Stoick was beginning to dread the last paragraph, at the bottom of the page, but he read it anyway.

_ ‘Logically, if one does not act like an animal, one is not an animal. I do not act like an animal. Therefore I am not an animal. Toothless does not act like an animal. Therefore he is not one either.’ _

And there it was. Hiccup did not consider the dragon an animal. Stoick could not ignore that it had spoken to him, however that was accomplished, and even used reasoning, logic. Not an animal. It talks now.

No, he was not hallucinating, and Gothi's command made far too much sense now. Listen. They could hear each other and understand.

This was her doing. She was tired of their fighting. Didn't she realize this would only make things worse? He had considered the dragon an insolent nuisance before. Now it was a threat and a potential kidnapper.

A kidnapper if Hiccup didn't want to go. Of course, he didn't want to go. Berk was his home. Stoick flipped back through the notebook. Were there plans, drawings of things to be built here? Surely Hiccup had plans.

None. Not in this book, anyway. This book had plenty of maps near the middle, but those were all of Berk and the surrounding area, and mostly unfilled.

Berk was the only place with all the details filled in. That could mean Hiccup only cared about Berk, or...

Or Hiccup was done with Berk, and ready to move on.

It was stupid to be divining his son's mind from a map and the words of a spiteful reptile. Stoick decided to ask Astrid when she came over tomorrow.

For tonight, on the other hand, he needed to figure out where he was sleeping. That dragon was a threat, one he did not want to be vulnerable to for a second. Hiccup was safe down there, but Stoick himself needed security.

That was a reversal of how things normally were, to be sure. Usually, it was Stoick who would be fine, and Hiccup who needed the extra protection.

At that... Stoick looked around the loft. It had a door of sorts, but that was no barrier. However, it had creaky stairs and a bed that was really just a large wooden platform.

He could sleep here. It was late, at least on Berk, for nights came early in the Winter. He only needed to go back downstairs for food...

And he would either have to feed the reptile or let it feed itself. Admitting he was wrong in one way or another. That was aggravating.

He stamped downstairs, feeling the wooden steps protest his weight no matter where he set his boot. Yes, this would be a good early warning system.

The Night Fury watched him silently as he prepared some bread and hard cheese, and ate, intentionally not hurrying. He would not be an intruder in his own home. At least the beast was silent.

It remained silent as he pulled the barrel of salted fish out and dropped some on the floor. It was annoying, but he would rather clean the wooden floor off then do dishes for a dragon. At least eating off the floor put the beast in its place.

His mind must have been counting despite his lack of concentration because his hand hesitated after the last of the usual amount was down.

Starve a dragon, or admit that the dragon was in the right? A dragon that was watching closely, its eyes knowing. Well, so much for making the choice on his own.

He gave in and rapidly pulled out the rest of the portion size Hiccup had determined. The Night Fury grinned. It opened its mouth, presumably to speak.

He cut it off. "I checked Hiccup's notes. You're getting exactly what those say, no more. This room remains untouched." He very pointedly placed the barrel in the cold room, closed the door, and jammed a wooden board up against it. 

A sigh. "He knows better than you." The beast padded over and began swallowing the fish, rapidly shrinking the pile. "And I have grown used to this repugnant treatment your fish get. Acceptable." The tone was patronizing.

"Worthless reptile," Stoick muttered, grabbing a plank of wood that had been meant for the fire and retreating back up to the loft.

No, he was not retreating he was... picking a place of fortification. Yes, that was it. He barricaded himself in with Hiccup's bed and the plank, and settled down on the wooden boards, noting that there were gaps in the planks. Gaps that, if one looked down, one could see through.

Feeling distinctly clever, he moved across the room until he found a gap that, at just the right angle, afforded a view of Hiccup and the dragon. Now he could be sure that if Hiccup needed something he was available, which wasn't likely, but still a possibility. And he could watch the beast. The stairs would be an audible warning, and the bed would buy him time to react. He liked his chances with his trusty ax and an enclosed space.

The dragon stared at the stairs for a moment. Was it considering its chances?

Then it chuffed. "Gone to your place. He should not be there. I was only in there once, but it smelled of you."

Harder to hear, but still audible. Was the dragon talking to Hiccup? Clearly, with the reference to his room. It must think Stoick couldn't hear.

"It smells of you, but nowhere else does." A low growl. "Your own nest is not yours."

Of course not, Hiccup was hardly ever here. The dragon was making a big deal out of nothing.

"Wake up, please." A whine, so quiet as to be almost unnoticeable. "Your old and wise one did something, but I do not like it."

The feeling was mutual there.

"Please. We need to leave. This is not your place, and it is not mine. We can find a better one."

Over Stoick's dead body. He glared through the crack at the rebellious beast.

"You wanted to leave. We were going to. We still can. The one you fancy can come too. She would, I think."

Astrid leaving Berk? Even more unlikely. But the beast truly did think Hiccup wanted to go. It must have misinterpreted something.

"I wish I could talk to and hear  _ you _ ," it moaned. "You deserve this gift. It is wasted on your Sire."

Now it was just speaking in circles. Whining, to boot. Did Hiccup know his dragon was a whiner?

Then a whisper, a rumble so low Stoick could make out nothing but the end.

"... everyone else did." A plea, one that Stoick hadn't been able to make out.

The dragon moved, nudging Hiccup's prone form gently. No matter how badly Stoick wanted to think of the beast as a danger to Hiccup, he could not justify that argument even in his own mind. It barely did more than touch.

Whatever it was hoping for did not come. It moaned and curled up right beside Hiccup's bed. No more was said.

That hadn't been very useful. Stoick fell asleep with his face pressed to that crack, aware and not caring that he would look distinctly silly to an outside observer. No one was around to see him spying on a dragon with his face pressed to the floor.

**  
  
**

The next morning started with a thump. Several, actually, and then a high-pitched yell. Stoick rolled over, wondering when he had fallen out of bed. Also, when had Valka come back?

No, that was a pleasant dream. That yelp had been quickly stifled and followed by a scolding that could only come from an embarrassed Astrid. But how was she in here?

Stoick recalled what he had learned of the past few days even as Astrid yelled into the hut, looking for him. The dragon could open doors. It had let her in. That would be what had surprised her. A reptile letting her into a hut.

Great. He hurried downstairs after moving the barricade. "Ah, Astrid."

"Err... chief?" She pointed at his face. "New war paint?"

What? He put a hand to his face. "No. What color?"

"Red." She put a hand to her mouth. "New bed?"

"Oh, that." He must have lines all over his face from sleeping face-down on that floor. "Something like that, yes."

Astrid moved over to Hiccup and set down a bowl she had been carrying. "Still not awake?"

"No. Gothi said it could be days or it could be months." He pulled over a chair for her, and another for himself. The fact that the chairs got in the infernal reptile's way was just a bonus. The dragon stuck its head at Astrid as if to knock her out of the way-

Astrid smirked, and set the bowl down. "Someone wants attention." She took the beast's muzzle and scratched vigorously.

"Perfect," the dragon purred. Stoick glared at it when Astrid wasn't looking.

"But you know," Astrid continued in a happy tone of voice, "Hiccup needs to eat-" She chuckled as the head promptly withdrew. "Thought so."

"He needs food," the beast agreed.

Now Stoick was wondering, almost against his own will, just how much the dragon understood normally. Was what Gothi did affecting its level of understanding?

"Sir," Astrid said after a few moments of silence, "when did Toothless learn to open doors?"

"Beats me," Stoick grumbled. "Infernal reptile was after the fish."

"A day after we got here," the dragon in question supplied absently. "It was not hard to figure out."

Of course, Astrid showed no signs of hearing anything more than an agreeable rumble. "Clever," she mused. "Like rider, like dragon?"

"Ah, about that." Stoick cleared his throat. Even if the dragon was right here, he was going to go about his plans. It wanted to leave anyway. "Are there any particularly large Nightmares around?"

Astrid smiled. "Thinking of getting one?"

"I doubt it." The beast snorted. "He'd mistreat whichever poor soul got stuck with him."

Stoick forced himself to remain calm. He could not hear the infernal beast, because Astrid could not. Best to ignore it. "No, but keep a few of the bigger ones around. I want Hiccup to take a look at them when he wakes up."

Now Astrid was giving him a confused look. "For what?"

A moment in which no one spoke. Astrid had finished with the food. Now they sat there, unoccupied.

Then her face clouded. "This doesn't have anything to do with Gobber's ranting about doing the impossible, does it?"

That was not encouraging. "It's not impossible. He said himself that Hiccup could probably do it."

Dual snorts from the dragon and Astrid. That was disconcerting.

"Hiccup thinks in different ways," Astrid diplomatically explained. "Gobber has no idea how to think like that. Neither do I."

"Still, I want it done." He needed that done. "Hiccup can do it when he gets up."

That did not satisfy Astrid. "Sir, with all due respect," she began, before trailing off.

"Go on." He didn't want to hear it, but if he cultivated a reputation for not hearing dissenting opinions, he would not get valuable advice in the future.

"You're not getting Hiccup to pick another dragon." She shook her head. "It's just not going to happen."

"That is your plan?" The beast sounded more incredulous than angry. "It seems storming the nest was not a fluke. You really are that stupid."

It was becoming harder and harder not to let on that he heard another participant in his discussion with Astrid. "He needs a dragon that-"

"Reflects his personality," Astrid cut in. "That's just how it works. Hiccup is unique, and so is Toothless. Smart, sarcastic, different."

"True. I like you," the dragon agreed. "You understand."

"Those are not the qualities a chief should have," Stoick asserted. "He needs strength, decisiveness, and leadership capabilities."

"Sir, Toothless shows those too." Astrid laughed, a hand on the dragon's head. "You're saying a Night Fury doesn't represent strength? That a dragon who flies towards death for a friend isn't decisive?"

"Well said."

"It's insolent and frustrating!" He broke, slamming a fist into his unoccupied hand. "It defies me at every opportunity!"

A level stare. "Also Hiccup. Sir, you're not going to get anything better even if you can tear them apart. Any dragon Hiccup can bond with will be just as aggravating to you."

That was  _ not _ what he wanted to hear. "Then he'll just work with all of them, and not have one of his own. This one is not acceptable."

A glare, now. Astrid was fierce when provoked. "Both or none. I don't think you get it. He was ready to leave."

Hearing that from Astrid, of all people, was worrying. She did not exaggerate. "How so?"

"I think walking into the cove in full gear and saying it was time to take a 'permanent vacation' is pretty clear." Astrid sighed. "Sir, if you try to force them apart, I think Hiccup will just leave."

No. No, he would not. "Then I'll throw it out right now!" Hiccup couldn't leave without a dragon to leave on, as Stoick controlled the boats.

"And I'll take him in until Hiccup wakes up," Astrid countered. "Toothless would hate being separated from him..."

"Yes, I would." It was said with a glare at Stoick in the slight pause Astrid left open.

"... but he would wait with me. And then they'd leave." She looked Stoick in the eye. "Casting a flightless dragon out is killing them. If you try to kill Toothless, again, Hiccup will never forgive you."

An ultimatum. But... "As your chief, I order you not to shelter this Night Fury." Now it was a question of loyalty.

"Sir, I would leave with them." A straight face. "I can fly his tail, I think, and Gobber still has the first replacement he built earlier. If you do this, I'll leave now, with Toothless. Hiccup will ask when he wakes up, and I'll make sure the whole village knows why I went. He'll find us. I can leave hints only he would see as important, and he would find a way to us. There is no way for you to get what you want here."

Treachery. "You would defy me?" A sort, dangerous tone.

"I would stop you from striking at your own son. Again." A cold tone. Astrid was not backing down. "Just because you don't like his dragon."

"Get out." Stoick felt like yelling, but he remained cold and angry, speaking forcefully. "And leave now. Follow through on your promise."

Astrid's face fell. Not in defeat or surrender. In acceptance. "So be it," she whispered. "Chief, I am loyal. But that extends to stopping you from making choices you'll regret later." She turned to the beast. "Toothless, you heard him."

"All too well." the beast snarled at Stoick. "Cast us out? Your son's best friend and future mate? He will never forgive you that because this time he will understand that you acted out of spite, and nothing else." Then it laughed bitterly, causing Astrid to look at it with concern. "I do not strike at his Sire out of spite. Who is the animal now?"

With that, they both left, though the dragon whined at the doorway. "I will see you again," it promised Hiccup's unconscious form. "I will."

Then they were gone. Off of Berk, or maybe just to Astrid's hut. Stoick didn't care. That was it. He was rid of the beast. But it had cost him a promising young warrior.

Fine.

Hours passed. Days. Stoick went about his business, but some things had changed.

Gobber flat-out refused to talk to him. Astrid had turned his best friend against him, somehow.

The entire Hofferson clan was downright hostile, all of them saying only that they supported Astrid's loyalty. No matter what the chief ordered them to do.

Oh, they would comply in his demands to let him search her room, but they all denied knowledge of her whereabouts and cast him pitying glances. As if he would regret his actions later on. He found nothing important in her room anyway.

The only thing he regretted was that he hadn't killed the Night Fury when he had the chance. It was still out there, somewhere, and it was not gone for good.

But when he sat at home, tending to Hiccup, he worried. Astrid was not wrong in saying that Hiccup would want an explanation. There was nothing he could say, no way to spin it, that would counter the truth, which would get to Hiccup, and sooner rather than later.

He could lie. Hiccup might fall for a tale of Astrid taking the Night Fury, buying its loyalty and deluding herself into thinking that a better dragon gave her authority. But then Hiccup would hear the truth.

Because Stoick couldn't silence his own people. They still listened to him and obeyed in every other situation, but he knew better than to try and silence rumor. No matter the subject, rumor found its way out to those who shouldn't hear it.

So Hiccup would know to search. And the unfiltered truth of the matter was that Stoick had checked Astrid's room, but he would not see hints left for Hiccup. There was no way to stop things from falling out exactly as Astrid had said.

She and the Night Fury had already won. When Hiccup woke up, he would soon leave Berk in search of them. That was inevitable.

All because he had wanted the dragon gone. The Night Fury that defied him in his own home. Was this a fair price? Of course not.

He raged for a while against unloyal Hoffersons and demons of the night, but he did so in the privacy of his own home. And once he was done, some hard truths he had been avoiding began to sink in.

The first truth, and the hardest to accept: Hiccup and the Night Fury were not separable by his doing. Probably not by anyone's doing. Hiccup would seek it out, and it would do the same. They would find each other again, especially with Astrid making it easy.

The second truth was just as bad, if less unthinkable. He had messed up again. Revealing his plot to Astrid, and forcing her into a corner. Gods, if he had just acted as a chief should, and not like a stubborn  _ child _ , then the situation would be as it had been before. Stuck in the same house as a talking Night Fury who defied him. Not ideal, but nowhere near as bad as this was. At least back then he had looked forward to Hiccup waking up, instead of feeling dread at what would follow.

So how to deal with this? He would have to get Astrid and that Thor-damned dragon back, and reconcile with... both of them. Astrid, he could thank for stopping him from making a terrible decision, as he now understood she was right in that aspect, and caution her about so openly defying her chief. That could be fixed.

But the dragon...

He would have to suck up his pride and negotiate with it. Like he negotiated with any unfriendly chief that had what he needed. In this case, the dragon was going to be around Hiccup. There was nothing Stoick would do to stop that.

Nothing he could do. But the dragon didn't know that. It thought the worst of him. So he had a little bargaining power. Enough to force some concessions, hopefully.

With that decided, he pondered for a few moments how to find Astrid and get her back. Then it hit him.

There was no way no one on Berk knew where she was. She would want to keep informed on the condition of her village, to make sure she knew when Hiccup woke.

So, the next morning he made it known, to certain villagers, that he wanted to talk to Astrid. The rumor mill would spread that to where it needed to go.

A week or so later, he woke to a knock on his door. It was the middle of the night, and snow had been falling again earlier. What was it now?

Astrid was at the door, her eyes confident... and nervous, at the same time. This was it.

He gestured to the interior of his hut. "I would ask you to come in, but I get the feeling you'd be happier to remain outside." Calm, collected. Not angry, and definitely not desperate. He needed to impress on Astrid how serious her actions were, while not punishing her for them. It was a delicate balance.

She nodded. "I heard you wanted to talk to me." Matter-of-fact, as if she had just overheard it walking through the village. No chance he would get any hints as to her source.

"I have... realized the error in my thinking," he admitted. "Banishing the two of you was a mistake."

"And the rest?" She asked coldly, framed by the doorway and the falling snow behind her. "I will not return only to see Toothless killed in some attempt to rid yourself of him, and by extension your own son."

He shook his head. "The dragon and I will come to an agreement." And how literally he meant that was open to interpretation.

Astrid laughed bitterly. "If agreement means asserting your authority, good luck. Toothless is more than your match for stubbornness."

There seemed to be a story behind that, but he chose not to follow up on it. "Astrid, you acted out of loyalty. To me and to my son. We can talk later about other, less dangerous ways you could have handled this particular situation." There were other paths she could have taken that did not directly defy him.

"I understand." She grimaced. "And my punishment? Sir."

"A public apology for defying orders, even out of loyalty, and..." Here was where he would order whipping or some other physical discipline, but she didn't deserve any of that. "Whatever job you give the twins when they've gotten on your nerves, you do for a month." 

"Yes, sir." Astrid glanced to the side, looking at something Stoick could not see. "Are you ready for Toothless to return?"

Right now. He was going to have to do this tonight. "Yes."

Astrid waited for a moment, before sighing and shaking her head. "Well, he's right there," a finger pointed to her left side, "so good luck with all of that, chief." She turned and disappeared into the driving snow.

A few moments passed. Stoick did not close the door. When he was sure Astrid was gone, he spoke again. "Get in here. We need to talk too, dragon."

"An unpleasant phrase coming from you," was the muttered reply, and a dark shape speckled in white flecks slunk through the doorway. Eyes slits, teeth bared, the beast was not happy with Stoick. That much was clear.

Those eyes softened when they reached Hiccup, still out. The Night Fury sat on its hind legs by his bed and stared at Stoick from across Hiccup's body.

So that was how they would do this. Fine. It would help him remember why he was giving in at all to this insufferable creature.

"He is my son." Stoick thought that was a good way to start this off. Let the dragon know his stake in this. If he was going to treat it as a negotiation, then that was how it should be done.

"He is my rider," was the reply. "My friend. Family."

A scoff was allowed to pass Stoick's lips. "Dragon and human. Right. Family." He could not allow the dragon to negate his advantage in being Hiccup's father.

"Speak not of what you do not understand," the dragon hissed. "Instead, tell me why you relented."

"I relented because I don't want to have to explain to Hiccup why his dragon abandoned him," Stoick replied, his voice calm. "It would be doable, but I would rather not have him hurt."

"You would rather he not leave to find me and Astrid," the beast corrected smugly. "She outmaneuvered you."

"She helped me realize I cannot be rid of you entirely," Stoick corrected sternly. "I still hate you."

"And I hate you." It was a clear statement. At least he knew where they stood. "But why do you hate me? I know why I hate you."

"You're insufferable, rebellious, disobedient, and arrogant," Stoick listed off. "My son is different enough as it is."

"Your son is all of those things. Why do you not rid yourself of him too? Oh, wait, I forgot, you tried." A soft snarl. "I hate you for that. My son was just as frustrating, and I never even considered giving up on him."

This was news to Stoick. "You act far too immature to be a father."

"I'm older than you, idiot." A deep voice, as always, but one that carried the weight of years. How had he never noticed before? "Old enough to raise children, and old enough to have lost them to your kind. Old enough to have lost  _ everything _ to your kind."

That felt uncomfortably close to what Stoick himself had said and heard said by fellow Vikings. "Your kind kills ours. That was probably well-deserved-"

A flash of movement. He was a warrior, with battle-honed reflexes, but this was not something any human could prepare for. Pinned under a black, furious mass in the time it would take to blink, acid-green eyes boring into his own. He pushed, but it lacked force. Something else held him, something besides the weight he could with effort shrug off.

"Say that again." A dead, old voice that promised oblivion in a heartbeat. "Say that my family deserved the death they received. My daughter, who could not yet fly. My son, who was just learning to live on his own. My mate, who never left them to struggle when she could help." A pause, a pained whine. "The unhatched egg she had just laid a day before. Say that little one deserved death before it could even know life."

He had... misspoken. Clearly. The beast was, though it pained him to admit it, showing more restraint than he would if their positions had been reversed. "I meant... no offense."

"You meant offense." The same voice. No change. "And you do not regret implying that. You often say what hurts most. I am not sure it is accidental."

"Get off." He shrugged, still for some reason lacking the motivation to truly fight back. Now he knew why. Guilt would not let him strike out again. He deserved this, for saying something so spiteful and stupid.

"For his sake," and at that the beast stepped away, freeing Stoick, "I will give you one chance. Apologize, and mean it."

"Or?" Stoick asked challengingly, drawing his hammer.

"Or I kill you, get the old and wise one to do what she did to us with Hiccup, and apologize to him. He would understand, though it would hurt, and I do not know if he could forgive me. Some things I cannot let go unanswered. That is one of those things." A growl. "For the record, harming him is another."

Stoick knew he had messed up, badly. The apology did not come easily, but he could give it. "I am sorry."

The dragon glared at him. "And somehow, you manage to be sincere when it all lies in the balance. I see why Hiccup never gave up on  _ you _ . You're good at pulling yourself back from the brink of no return."

That stung, but Stoick ignored the urge to shoot back. He was not here to start a fight... and die, no matter how much admitting  _ that _ hurt his pride.

After a moment, he lowered his hammer. "We must reach some sort of accommodation." It was a fact. They hated each other, and now they were going to compromise despite that.

"Yes, we must." The dragon knew it too. "I am not your subordinate."

"In my home, everyone is." That too was fact.

"Then I will not live in your home," was the response. "Hiccup does not, by all evidence. Just the area above, which is not your territory."

"It's in my hut, so yes it is." That was not negotiable.

"Not according to the smell. You are never there. Hiccup is. It is his territory." A subtle growl. "And he needs his own territory, as a growing male, so you cannot deny that it is his."

That wasn't really how humans worked... but Stoick was beginning to understand what made this dragon so frustrating, the reason behind the total lack of respect.

A father was watching from behind those green eyes and was not impressed by what he saw. An alpha male who would not bow to another. One with a past that made him world-weary... even if that side didn't often show. There was nothing Stoick had, be it age, authority, or status, that this dragon did not also have in its own way.

But it had attached itself to Hiccup, and freely admitted to listening to him, following his lead. How did that work?

"What do you want?" He gave up and asked. No more dancing around with offers and counter-offers, piecemeal requirements. He had always hated that part of negotiating anyway.

"Hiccup is mine, and he has influence over me. You are his Sire. He knows I am not an animal. This situation resolves itself when he wakes. Until then, do not bother me, and I will not bother you."

It was a simple solution, if one that Stoick wasn't sure would work. "And what happens when he wants you to obey me?"

"I tell him no." A simple answer. "He is too intelligent to ignore that. We will work out our differences easily, as we already do."

"And then he defies me, and we have a problem." That wasn't going to work.

An amused and cynical gurgling laugh was the immediate response. "Then let us leave, for he will defy you no matter how obedient I am. All growing children do. It is what ensures they will be independent in life, and not weaklings." An abrupt silence fell as the laugh stopped suddenly. "But Sires who cannot see that will drive them away. I did not make your mistake with my own son, and he still fought me for a while. We worked it out. You are not on that path."

That was not acceptable. "You will not criticize how I raise my own son."

"You will not speak ill of the dead," was the immediate retort. "I say now if you do not begin to truly listen and stop insisting on total conformity, which I gathered was what pushed him away in the first place, he will leave, and he will in time cease to regret doing so."

"He is my son." Maybe he should try harder. He had resolved to do so earlier, in the first few days, but this was more. The dragon knew the issues, the unspoken ones that could be recognized openly now that someone had defined them. "He needs to understand that I know better."

"When it comes to dragons, no you do not," the beast remarked. "As everything involving me pertains to dragons, he does know better than you. And so if he defies you, it is for good reason, and he should not have to do so."

"He gets into trouble when he defies me," Stoick objected. "Look at all of... this." He waved a hand to the bed, to the prosthetic that they both knew Hiccup would wear for the rest of his life.

"He gets into trouble." Said agreeably. "That is inevitable. He also does good things. But you would prevent both by preventing the one." It held up its tail, flaunting the unbalanced and damaged sight. "Trouble. But also good. If I would stop him from crippling me, I would also stop him from healing my heart and making me feel young again simply by being around him. The two are intertwined."

It was... a fair point. Stoick cast his mind back to his own childhood, searching for a comeback. His father had...

Never limited him with rules and restrictions beyond what any Viking followed. Had actually encouraged arguing and disagreements. The Viking way.

"Let him do as he will." A soft warble. "I would see where that takes him. You as his Sire should want to see it too."

"He will be chief, and I need to prepare him for that." Hiccup's destiny was set or would be if he would just accept it.

"He is alpha, you know." A smug grin. "Killer of the previous alpha is alpha. Astrid is his deputy for now. When he wakes, every dragon on Berk will be willing to listen to him. What makes your nest any more important than his?"

That was very, very disconcerting. "These are his people. The dragons are not."

"Pull the other one," the dragon huffed. "These are not his people. By scent, they are yours. He smells of fire. That is not human."

Reasoning Stoick hadn't expected, but it had a flaw. "So is Gobber, by that logic."

"That one smells of smoke and the odd liquid your kind poisons itself with." A snort. "Not fire."

"Hiccup is a Viking." Now they were arguing over the most basic of facts!

"He is a dragon in all but body." Said as if it was fact. "How many Vikings love flight?"

"We can't fly." Really, what was the point in all of this?

"And yet he took to it as naturally as any fledgling, cheering despite being flung into water after only moments in the air." A considering look. "Dragon."

"I don't care what you think-"

"And  _ that _ is why I will not obey you." A low growl. "Only tyrants command without caring about those they command. I have bowed to a tyrant once. Never again."

Stoick felt like he had fallen into a trap. "I am no tyrant!"

"To your people. But he and I," a nod to the bed, as if it was not clear who the beast was referring to, "and all of the dragons here, are not your people."

"He is-"

"An alpha, as you are." No room for argument. "So give him the same respect you do other alphas. I assume there are others of your kind."

That... was a surprisingly good way of looking at it. A way to save face, to give in without actually giving in. Stoick seized upon the opening. "He is an alpha, you say."

"Several times now. Is this odd understanding wearing off?" The dragon warbled curiously. "At that, is this permanent or not?"

A good question, but irrelevant. "If he is a chief of dragons, then I will have to treat him with respect. And he will do the same to me." A way of thinking. If Hiccup was already a chief, and this dragon his subordinate, then Stoick was above the Night Fury, but not in a way that allowed him to take charge.

That was all he had needed. A way to fit all of this strangeness into his old view of the world. "Deal."

"You will go through him, and not attempt to subjugate either of us. In return, we do not antagonize each other." The lizard nodded. "Good."

Stoick had a faint suspicion that he had been manipulated, but he put that aside. This meant a truce, and that was worth a little manipulation. He had sacrificed his upper hand early on anyway, thanks to that accidental insult. This was a neutral deal, and better than he could hope to obtain in a real negotiation.

A truce with the beast. A beast that could speak, and had a surprisingly wide vocabulary. What had Gothi done, exactly? It did not feel like he had argued with a Viking just now. It felt like he had debated with a foreigner, one who spent time reading and learning. Not a Viking trait.

Why not bring it up? "You are well-spoken, given you could not speak until recently."

The dragon laughed. "What are you hearing? I do not speak."

Stoick scratched his head, entirely confused. "I hear words."

"I always heard your sounds, but now when you speak I hear the words of my kind, which are not as fixed." A deep growl. "Tone, intent, lilt, meaning. A thousand meanings and subtle shadings are possible in each sound, and you use them. I struggle to understand the more complex ideas of your strict language, but this is easy."

So... "You aren't trying to use words?"

"No more than you are putting thought into your sounds, I suppose." A confused look. At least Stoick was not alone in that.

That seemed as far as they could puzzle out. Whatever Gothi had done, it was complex.

That brought Stoick’s mind back around to a related question, one the reptile had asked. "Permanent?" He considered it. "Well, maybe." He would have to see if she could make it permanent if it was not already. No matter how frustrating this particular dragon was, there was no denying the value of having clear communications with another, allied species.

"No." A deep growl. "I do not want this to be permanent between us. It is not natural."

"So? It's useful." Why would the beast object to that?

"Well, first off, I already understand your kind, more or less." A chuff. "You could work to do the same with mine, and not rely on this strangeness. I expect Hiccup will do so quite rapidly, once I use this  _ temporary _ ability to set him on the right path."

"I was never good with languages," Stoick muttered. That was a fact he knew from childhood. Even different dialects of Norse had given him immense trouble.

"Then let Hiccup learn, and that will be enough." The dragon nodded, now staring down at him. "I would tell him many things, either then or sooner if your old and wise one can be persuaded to allow it."

"Well, I can ask about whether this is permanent," Stoick offered. "She comes around again in a few days."

"Good. Until then, we assume it is not." A challenging stare. "I would educate you. The less Hiccup has to do, the better. Ask."

That was a good deal. "You will answer truthfully?" He could not allow himself to be duped.

"No matter what. There is no point otherwise."

"How many humans have you killed?" A test, just to be sure.

"How many sail in a ship? Dozens of those. How many man a catapult? Hundreds of those." A sigh. "How many reside in your wooden constructs? More of those than I can count, in all my years under the Queen."

Stoick felt his fists clench. "Thousands, then." This beast was a mass-murderer. A mass-murderer he was going to let be his son's best friend. "Murderer."

"And so are you." A glare. "Let us be fairer. I have lived far longer than you. How many did I kill in a year? No more than five of each structure."

"About a hundred Vikings, give or take." Stoick did the math quickly. It was easy when he was thinking in a military mindset.

"How many dragons did you kill in a year of raids?" The question was quiet, dark.

A raid every month, dozens per month, maybe upwards of thirty dragons if the fight was a good one. Twenty, as an average. Twenty per month, twelve months... "At least two hundred."

"So you are twice the monster I am," was the conclusion. "Or neither of us is one, forced to fight against our wishes."

That might not apply to most Vikings, but Stoick would have preferred peace, as his job was to keep his village thriving and most importantly alive. Peace was good for that. So they were both in one way or another blameless.

The least blameless of any combatant, as both of them were exceptionally deadly, but still relatively blameless. They did what they had to. He in defense of his village, and this dragon in compliance with orders he could not resist.

"Ask." A tired voice from the dragon got them back on track. "I answer with the truth."

"Why will the dragons follow Hiccup?" He needed to know that.

"He and I killed the alpha. It is a stupid instinct, but they follow power. Generally, that is a dragon, but Hiccup is close enough for their small minds, and I have no interest in leading."

"Why do you set yourself apart?" It was clear in the way the beast spoke. "You follow too."

"I  _ choose _ to follow Hiccup, and have been since before he was an alpha."

"But you followed the massive Queen dragon."

A pause. "I had nothing. She offered a way to stop making decisions for myself. It seemed like a way to give up without dying. My mate always made me promise to live no matter what."

"How rare are your kind?" He wanted to know if there were other Furies out there. The beasts were exceedingly deadly and impossible to track. If anyone would know, this dragon would.

"I am the last, as far as I know." An old, tired sigh. "Dragons are fading from this world. We do not take territory anymore, only lose it."

"Good." Stoick was fine with that. "This is our world. If we can take it from you, we might as well."

"Another reason I follow him, and never you." Now a whisper, sad and determined. "He wants to live in harmony. You would take and never give."

"I want what's best for my people," Stoick objected. "If that's ridding the world of competition, I will."

"And that is where you fail. Hiccup would, in your place, see all of us as his people, and strive to make all safe and happy. Even the ones who opposed him." A soft snort. "It is who he is."

"Sounds like he takes after his mother, then." Valka. She would be proud, that was for sure.

"Dead. By dragon, no less, from what he has said in passing." A careful tone of voice. "And yet he can put that aside for the good of all."

"He will not forget her," Stoick objected.

"I never said he would," was the reply. "I said he would put that aside to do what is right."

Stoick wasn't particularly happy with that. He decided to ask a more painful question, as subtle retribution. "Did your family take part in the Queen's raids?" Just close enough to reasonable.

The dragon stiffened, staring at Stoick warily. "No. We lived far from here, and all of that. My mate had never taken the life of a human, we were so isolated."

"Then how did humans find you?" Stoick pressed.

"Tales of black shadows among the mountains? Sightings of my son among the peaks as he learned to fly?" The beast growled angrily. "Any one of many things could have given us away. And then the humans came with their weapons and their armor and death."

"And yet you don't have a single scar from it," Stoick continued, unwilling to give up this line of questioning.

A bitter laugh full of resentment. "Night Furies do not scar permanently. We shed our skin every decade or so. Scars go with it. I nearly died that night, before driving the humans out, and almost did die of blood loss." Then it spread a wing. "And I have scars now, from the ropes of the bola that brought me down. They will remain until I shed again."

"So it's like it never happened to you," Stoick continued. "Nothing but a memory."

A dangerous snarl. "This is not teaching you anything but how to torture me. Ask something else, or resign yourself to the reality that your son will be the one who leads, not you. That will happen either way, but you are not taking the opportunity to make yourself useful."

Who was this dragon to tell him off? "I'll ask what I want."

"And you want to hurt me instead of improving?" A serious question. "Are Hiccup, Astrid, and a few of the others I know exceptions to some general trend in your kind?  _ They _ are not spiteful."

"I am not spiteful." A chief led by example. He could not afford to be spiteful, because others would see it as permission to do the same.

"How did your mate die? Did she fight the dragon who took her?" An angry glare. "Well? Answer."

"You dare..." He had begun angry, but it sunk in before he could act. His fists clenched and then slowly released as the anger morphed into guilt... again.

"You dared," the dragon finished sadly. "How did Hiccup end up as he did, if you are all he is not? He must really take after his Dam, as you said."

Stoick let that go, feeling tired. "What do you think I need to know?"

Now the dragon looked interested. "Well, since you ask... we are intelligent to some degree, though I will say that most are not quite as obviously smart as I am."

Stoick thought about some of the villagers. "I understand that." Vikings weren't the sharpest tools in the armory, usually. They preferred blunt weapons anyway.

"Nightmares are temperamental but brave, Gronckles lazy but honest, Terrors dishonest but clever, Zipplebacks sneaky and quick thinkers, and Nadders are vain but loyal." A litany recited as if common knowledge. "But take none of that for granted. There are always exceptions. Aside from that, how to hear us and understand. You need know no more."

"But Hiccup will know more?" The way the dragon had looked at Hiccup with that last remark was telling.

The dragon nodded. "I will tell him everything he cannot find out safely and leave him to discover the rest as he will. He is too curious to ignore even the slightest gap in knowledge."

"True," Stoick agreed. That was one thing he had no problems with hearing said.

A few moments passed in which the only sound was the crackling of the dying fire. The Night Fury walked away from his spot by Hiccup's side, going to curl up in front of said fire, his back to Stoick, staring into the flames.

"He will wake," the dragon remarked, not looking back. "Eventually."

There was a tremor in that deep voice, a worry. Stoick knew that feeling all too well to ignore it.

"He will."

Maybe this wouldn't be as difficult as he thought. They were similar, in some ways.

He could get along with one who had the same priorities, to a degree, regardless of other qualities. It was a practical skill.

Sitting there, waiting on his son, Stoick had plenty of time to think and nothing else to do. So, he considered all he had been told, losing track of time completely.

Of course, his mind wandered to the worst possible thing. Death, the loss of family for no good reason other than a war he would rather not fight.

His partner in life gone. That, he could say he knew... but he had not lost his child on the same night. Had not lost three children. What was the equivalent, in his situation, of what the Night Fury spoke of?

An image sprang into life in his mind, a still picture of one of the worst nights of his life, but subtly different than what he remembered.

Valka, a bulge on her stomach that was not there before, baby Hiccup and another, faceless child in her arms, an instant before being taken, as good as dead, in a horrible way. He could not see himself, but in this version of events he was bleeding and injured, unable to stop their fate.

That had happened to this dragon, that terrible fate. And then, after basically throwing his life away, the same dragon had lost... well, the only equivalent Stoick could think of was a leg, which was ironic.

He saw himself, missing a leg, stuck somewhere on an enemy island, knowing that he fought for someone he hated.

And then somehow, he found someone to care about, only to have them ripped away, hurt badly, almost killed, and only barely kept alive. He had risked his life for that person and had the favor returned without thought.

Had he mocked the Night Fury's claim of family? Not now, not putting himself in that place.

And then, the person's real family tried to reject him out of spite.

"I'm sorry." It came out in a mumble, but he did not wish to take it back. "For... everything."

Two black ears perked up, but nothing else moved.

"I have no excuse, no explanation aside from being a stubborn idiot," Stoick continued slowly. "But I do see I've been the one in the wrong for most of this."

A considering rumble. "Maybe... maybe there is more to you than I assumed. Apology accepted."

"And none from you in return?" Stoick asked after a moment. "I am not the only one at fault."

"Fine. Sorry." A snort. "But something tells me you would not like a lick on the face, and I would rather not find out what that red bush of hair tastes like, so we will leave it at that."

Stoick definitely wasn't going to object to skipping that. 

The next morning, Stoick woke with a splitting headache, realizing as he did that he had fallen asleep in his chair at some point. Well, it wasn't like that was unusual. The chair was as comfortable as his bed. Not at all. They were Vikings, it wasn't like they needed to be comfortable.

The dragon was across from him, still in front of the fire. It was as if no time had passed, save for his internal sundial, which said it was morning.

Still, he wasn't entirely sure about that. He stood, the chair creaking as his weight departed, and checked outside.

The sun was shining bright, and no one was about. Yup, morning.

"Oy, I'm goin' as fast as I can!"

Okay, someone was out and about after all. Stoick turned to look down the street, and saw Gothi atop Gobber, the old Smith clearing a path with the metal plate he had been sporting the last time this happened. It was a good way to clear the snow, it seemed.

They were coming towards him. Was today the day Gothi was supposed to be checking up on Hiccup? He really wasn't sure, having thought it wouldn’t be for a few more days, but something told him she wouldn't care if he pointed out she was early.

"Stoick!" Gobber sped up slightly, shoving snow to the sides as he pushed his way forward, huffing from the exertion. "Good timin'!"

"Yes," Stoick agreed as Gobber closed in, "very good." He was feeling strangely reluctant to see Gothi.

Maybe because last time she had done something unnatural to him. Now he couldn't disregard any of the rumors about her. But a chief was not supposed to be afraid of his subjects, so he squared his shoulders and met her eyes firmly.

She grinned. He flinched in spite of himself.

Gobber, caught up in his peculiar way of shoveling the snow aside as he approached, noticed none of that. "Finally."

Stoick let them both in, closing the door behind himself as he followed. "I trust you are both well."

"Depends," Gobber griped, "on whether being used as a pack animal is well-"

Gothi raised her staff threateningly.

"So yes, well," Gobber continued hastily.

"So, Gothi," Stoick began awkwardly. "About, uh, what... what you did." He still wasn't sure whether it was permanent, or even whether he wanted it to be. The dragon had made a good point on not relying on unnatural things.

Gobber gave Stoick a mocking glare. "An' ye told me nothing changed. So, what'd she do to ya?"

Gothi scratched out a message on her sand tray, distracting Gobber. While he translated, Stoick took a moment to confirm that the dragon was still asleep, though that wasn't going to be true for long, given how loud Gobber was.

"She says..." Gobber paused, looking up at Gothi. "Ye sure this is supposed to mean that?" He pointed to something she had written, and made a small correction. "Not that?"

Gothi shook her head decisively.

"Er... okay?" Gobber shrugged his shoulders. "Stoick, she says she needs to deafen you now. I thought she meant defend. It'd make a little more sense."

"I'm not being attacked," Stoick observed. "And I know what she means."

He felt a small amount of regret, faced with the knowledge that this odd hearing and talking to the dragon was going to end. If nothing else, being able to argue with it and hear the objections made things less purely frustrating and more... well, more frustrating in the way dealing with Hiccup often was, actually.

But he held in his regret, focusing on the practical side of things. "Just me, or him too?" A nod to the dragon.

A minute of scratching later and Gobber had the answer. "Nah, she says her change to him is a small one, so he can keep it." He looked up. "Stoick, I want the whole story later."

Stoick was more preoccupied with what that meant for the dragon. He had said he knew what most of what they said meant, aside from more complex ideas, but he had also said this way they had been able to hear each other was so much easier and complete. It would be a small change, as Gothi had said, but a massively useful one.

"Fair enough." Maybe if he knew as much of how dragons spoke... "And can we expect Hiccup to receive a similar treatment after he recovers?"

"She says... he doesn't need to be corrected," Gobber reported.

"Not for that. As a gift, a temporary one." Stoick recalled something else. "So that he can be set on the right path."

If Hiccup was going to learn it either way, Stoick would rather he have an easier time than not. Aside from that, this was a way of making up for some of his comments the night before. He would learn from his mistakes, with the dragon as well as Hiccup. That was what a chief did.

"Somethin' can be arranged." Gobber shrugged. "So, is that it?"

Gothi shook her head, gesturing towards the air in front of her. Stoick knelt, taking his helmet off, idly wondering as he did if she would knock him out again.

" _ Release _ ," Gothi pronounced, her voice clear and yet frail, creeping as if sticking to the air. Yes, Gobber had been right. Stoick was glad Gothi didn't speak more often.

He felt no change and the headache he had been nursing before Gothi arrived was still in full force, but nevertheless, he knew it was gone. There was power in the air, and it could be there for no other reason.

"Yeesh, next time let me get clear first," Gobber whispered, shuddering. " _ Now _ are we done? I wanna go drink until I forget tha'."

One last message scraped into the sand.

"He will wake in time." Gobber shrugged. "So that's a yes?"

Gothi nodded, and they made their way to the door. Stoick saw them off, waiting until the grumbling of Gobber receded into the distance before returning to his chair.

There really wasn't much to do in Devastating Winter. Maybe he should take up a hobby. Woodcarving, perhaps.

Eventually, he rose to go find a knife and a block of wood. No better time to start than now. Wood was easy, a log from the stack destined for the fire, and his knife from his belt. He sat at the table, trying to recall old lessons, setting his knife on the large chunk but not cutting yet.

He might as well get at this. With no raids, it was possible he might actually have free time in the near future.

As if. There was always going to be something that needed his attention.

A questioning warble reached his ears a half-hour or so later, just as he finished turning the log into unrecognizable chunks and splinters. He sighed, knowing that what he had just heard was the most he was ever going to hear from now on. Back to guesswork.

On his part, anyway. "Gothi was here. She changed my hearing back..."

Wait, hadn't they decided that each was speaking differently, not hearing? Why hadn't he heard other dragons, if it was hearing?

Had he actually been around other dragons? Maybe he could have if the opportunity had presented itself. It didn’t really matter anyway, as it was over now. For him, anyway...

"But you, she left alone. She says it's fine because you were almost there anyway."

A disgruntled groan. Stoick smiled, knowing what that sound meant without any translation necessary. The dragon had been against it being permanent, and he for it. Ironic that neither of them got what they wanted.

The Night Fury padded into view, heading towards the storage room. It paused at the door, looking back at Stoick.

He considered it.

"Fine, go ahead." He waved the knife at the door. "I know you can probably count, so I'm holding you to the same amount as yesterday. Any more and you get less next time."

An agreeable warble. The dragon smiled gummily, opening the door while never breaking eye contact, the tail moving as adeptly as an arm, if not more so.

"Just get in there," Stoick muttered, going back to his failed woodwork. "It's cold in there, and you're letting that cold in."

Sooner or later Devastating Winter would end, and he wouldn't have to worry about that.

Sooner or later Hiccup would get up. Stoick was both looking forward to and dreading that conversation. On the one hand, everything had worked out in the end. On the other... he was not proud of his own actions, and explaining that to Hiccup was going to be hard.

Worst of all, he needed to do it before the Night Fury got Hiccup to Gothi. Well, that shouldn't be too hard.

Several months later, Stoick watched his son fly around Berk with his friends, human and dragon, not ten minutes after he finally woke up completely from his fading coma.

Gobber ambled up to watch. "Ye know, he's gonna aggravate that stump. It's nae calloused yet. I'll bet it's already bleeding."

"Well, he can go... to... Gothi." Stoick groaned, understanding that there was no way he was getting in his side of the story first. "Great."

"Eh," Gobber remarked, "he'll be fine."

"It's not Hiccup's health I'm worried about now," Stoick countered. "That beast will get to give him its side of the story first."

He had, over many mugs of mead, told Gobber the tale of Gothi's curse, so Gobber understood... even if he had not and did not now seem to find the situation anything other than hilarious.

"Come on, how bad could it be? Classic Stoick, to almost screw it all up the second Hiccup's not around..." Gobber grinned. "Would ya look at that, the tables have turned."

He did not like that way of looking at it, but he also knew the dragon would be fair, if honest. "Things are going to get crazy soon."

"Aye, because this," Gobber pointed to all of Berk, dragons and humans living in chaotic harmony, "isn't at all crazy."

"It's not really crazy... for them." Stoick pointed at the racing riders and dragons. "They made it. We have to deal with it, not them."

"Well,  _ ye _ have to deal with it." Gobber began the trek to the forge. "I've gotta clean up the latest explosion."

Stoick felt the beginnings of a headache. "I told you that you can stop trying. Several times."

"But I've nearly got it now! I jus' need more Zippleback gas!" Gobber was grinning maniacally. "You started me on this path Stoick!"

"I regret it!" Stoick yelled back. "I thought you were exaggerating about the dangers!"

"It's Hiccup! He's subtle, I'm blunt! What did you expect when you basically told me to outdo him with an automatic tailfin!" Gobber gestured for emphasis with his hook. "Be glad I haven't recruited the twins for anything more than resource gathering yet!"

The twins were involved. That was new. But Gobber was too far away to yell at anymore. Great, just great.

Looking up, Stoick saw the black dragon falter in the air, the normal prosthetic Gobber had made failing on the human side of the operation. They recovered, but now Toothless was angling for Gothi's hut.

Stoick had one, very annoyed question, which he voiced to the empty air around him. "When did he figure out where she lives?"

Oh well, clearly the dragon had snuck around to determine that at some point.

Well, add that to the list of things to deal with. The Night Fury was probably eavesdropping on all of Berk, abusing its perfect understanding and the villagers' loose tongues. He would have to put a stop to that...

Along with explaining himself to Hiccup, dealing with the reality of Hiccup and his dragon being chiefs in their own way, not to mention the insanity that was sure to be gripping Hiccup in the next few months, curiosity inflamed by speaking to the Night Fury.

This was Berk, but not the Berk he knew. But a chief had to adapt.

Thanks to Gothi and that dragon, he was going to have to adapt even more than he had assumed. But this was better. If nothing else, it was good to know there was someone vaguely similar to himself watching over Hiccup, even if that dragon still acted downright silly and childish whenever Hiccup was around..

No matter. Things were better now. He would just have to be sure he wasn't like Mildew, back to how he was before in a few weeks. Else Gothi might try and teach him a second lesson, or give up as she had with Mildew.

He never wanted to hear Gothi's voice again, if only because it meant he had messed up so badly the gods needed to get involved to fix it.

****  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This story is a strange fragment, a mix of two different ideas that go nowhere specific. For those of you who would ask for me to depict the obvious scene between Hiccup and Toothless... why? We all know what goes on there, if not word for word, and the 'Hiccup is suddenly able to talk to Toothless' scene has been written a dozen times over. This, on the other hand, was not something I've ever seen, and Stoick being forced to listen to Toothless's retorts, coupled with the 'old and emotionally scarred Toothless' idea knocking around in my head created something strange and new. I'd much rather write new and unique. So, the rest is left to you.


End file.
